Adieu, adieu, fair land of France, where the vine of Brennus reigns;
We go where the blooming laurels grow, on the bright Italian plains.
Advance! advance! brave sons of France, before the startled world;
For France, once more, her tricolor in triumph hath unfurled.
Our eagles shall fly ’neath many a sky, with a halo round their way
Where History flings, on their flashing wings, the light of Glory’s ray;
And we shall bear them proudly on, through many a mighty fray,
That shall win old nations back to life, in the glorious coming day.
Then advance, advance, ye sons of France, before the startled world,
For France, once more, her tricolor in triumph hath unfurled.